


Falling (off a cliff) for You

by cotton_prima



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, because they fell off a cliff, characters literally falling off a cliff, descriptions of injuries, plot-relevant chest touching, this title is stupid but that's where i am right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cotton_prima/pseuds/cotton_prima
Summary: It didn’t bother her at all, Robin decided once they’d discussed the possibility of Risen in the area and how many scouts they’d need to send. Whether or not Frederick liked her was his business, not hers. She had a war to win and other big, important problems to worry about. Compared to that, what was the weight of one man’s opinion?Maybe it bothered her a little.
Relationships: Frederick/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85





	Falling (off a cliff) for You

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that, despite having written multiple FredRob fics, I'd only written established-relationship fics and had never written a Robin POV fic. Haha, weird. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

He always looked displeased to see her, Robin thought. Even as Chrom informed her about the mountain pass they’d need to secure, she was aware of Frederick at his side. The two of them had been speaking quietly and closely when she’d walked into the tent, and she’d been surprised to see Frederick so relaxed. With a smooth brow, he looked like a different man. Of course, he’d grimaced once he’d noticed her.

It didn’t bother her at all, Robin decided once they’d discussed the possibility of Risen in the area and how many scouts they’d need to send. Whether or not Frederick liked her was his business, not hers. She had a war to win and other big, important problems to worry about. Compared to that, what was the weight of one man’s opinion?

Maybe it bothered her a little.

After all, the rest of the Shepherds liked her well enough. Even Lon’qu had come around, despite his aversion to women. Why did Frederick hold out against her? What did he want from her?

She provoked him too much. She knew he wouldn’t like being called “Freddybear,” yet she called him that anyway. She knew tricking him into eating bear jerky was uncalled for, but she did so anyway. Perhaps that was why he still didn’t care much for her. Still, she thought, brandishing her practice blade to face him again, wasn’t this a bit much?

“Again,” Frederick demanded.

“I had hoped it was an exaggeration, what the other Shepherds say about you,” Robin said, settling into her defensive stance. “But you certainly earn your reputation as a sadist.”

“If you have energy to complain, then you have energy for another set. Again.”

“Alright. But you don’t need to glare. It ruins your handsome face.”

Frederick charged, and Robin managed, just barely, to block his first strike. His second strike sent her sword flying from her grip. Robin stumbled backward, and Frederick’s third strike stopped just inches from her throat. For a moment their eyes locked. Then Frederick lowered his blade.

“Again.”

Robin fetched her sword without complaint, but also without urgency.

“I think you put a nick in it,” she remarked.

“They’re just for practice. They’re meant to take a beating.”

She looked up at him. He didn’t even look smug, just dismissive. Bored. Somehow, that annoyed Robin even more.

“I don’t mean to come off as ungrateful, you know,” Robin said. “I do appreciate you training me. But it’s starting to feel more like a test, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Hmm.”

“I have no time for games, Robin,” he said. For a moment, his irritation seemed to flare, and Robin thought she had goaded him at last. But he steadied himself, and when he spoke again, the heat had gone out of his voice. “Your sword has potential,” Frederick admitted. “There is strength behind your swings, and you’re light on your feet. But you have poor form. If you do not refine it here, then you won’t last long on the battlefield.”

It was fair criticism. Of course, were this a real battle, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to go sword to sword with him. Instead of giving him the opportunity to toy with her, she would have dispatched him with magic long ago.

But it was uncharitable to think of him that way. He was simply training her, and doing a good job of it, too. He didn’t have to like her to do that.

Still, she wanted him to like her.

She would knock that sword out of his hands if it was the last thing she did.

“So what’s this about you calling Frederick ‘handsome?’”

Robin nearly sliced her thumb with the potato she was peeling. Meanwhile, Lissa continued to clumsily peel her own bag of potatoes, innocent to the near disaster her words had caused.

“Where did you hear that?”

“From the handsome man himself.”

Robin put down her knife and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Lissa was staring at her, amazed and expectant.

“Oh wow, you really said it, huh?”

“It’s not…” Robin hesitated. What was she going to say, that it wasn’t true? Lissa would sniff that lie out and throw it back at her tenfold. “It was during training. I was trying to tease him.”

“Hmm.”

“Why, what did he tell you? Why would he even tell you that?”

“Oh, he didn’t say anything much,” Lissa said slyly. “I think you confused him a bit. He wanted to know what it meant for a woman to call him handsome, so I told him.”

“It meant nothing,” Robin insisted. “I was making fun of him. Of course I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay.” Lissa shrugged and returned to her work. Robin picked up her knife, peeled half a potato, then set it down again.

“I mean, he is handsome, objectively speaking.”

“Mhmm.”

“You could ask any of the Shepherds, and I’m sure they’d agree with me.”

“Mhmm.”

“It wasn’t even a compliment!”

“Pardon me.”

A grin spread across Lissa’s face, while Robin felt her own turn white. She contemplated shoving the entire half-peeled potato into her mouth. Would that be childish? It would, wouldn’t it? Instead, she forced herself to turn and look at him. Frederick at least had the decency to look completely uninterested in her.

“The scouts have returned,” he told her, his voice betraying no hint that he had heard anything. It was generous of Frederick to spare her from embarrassment, even if he had been the source of it. She nearly confused her relief with fondness.

“Risen?” she asked.

“It seems the mountain is crawling with them.”

“Does Chrom know?”

“He is ready for you now.”

Robin nodded. She looked down at the sack of still unpeeled potatoes at her feet.

“Dinner may be late.”

“I’ve already called for Donnel. He will be along shortly to relieve you.”

Robin stood, brushing the potato scraps from her knees. Lissa had thrown her off for a moment, but she had composed herself. She was the army’s tactician, and she would carry herself to Chrom’s tent with all the dignity her position demanded. She would not let Frederick see her falter.

Robin locked eyes with Lissa. She realized with a terrible certainty that dignity was never an option.

“Bye, Robin!” Lissa said, her voice too sweet to be trusted. “Bye, ‘Handsome!’”

And there it went. Dignity.

She and Frederick walked briskly, neither of them acknowledging Lissa’s words or each other. The situation was urgent, after all. They couldn’t keep Chrom waiting.

Suddenly curious, Robin risked a glance at Frederick. A furious blush had broken his usual stoicism.

It didn’t bother her. It absolutely did not bother her.

But what exactly was that?!

It had gone very wrong.

Robin scrambled to her feet, the taste of singed dirt in her mouth. She had avoided the brunt of the Risen sorcerer’s attack, channeling the blast of thunder magic through and out of her body. Still, her limbs trembled, and her head felt like it was being held under water.

Bolts of fire peppered her battalion, and through the ringing in her ears she heard the screams of men and horses. Pinned between a steep ravine and a flush of enemy magic, the line began to fracture. Robin’s thoughts soured with panic. The scouts had reported Risen fighters and archers, not mages! If she had known…

The sorcerer was readying its next attack. She had to move. She had to strike it down first. She could not reach her tome fast enough.

A flash of steel and the Risen howled. It sunk to its knees, the magical blast exploding in the ground before her. Frederick rode to where she stood, his horse breathing hard. Never in her life had Robin been so relieved to see his scowl.

“If you can move, fall back,” he shouted over the battle. “We’ll regroup with Chrom, and—”

A sudden burst of necromantic energy cut Frederick short. He cried out in pain as the sorcerer, not quite dead, began to siphon his life away. Spooked, his horse reared back, and Robin watched in horror as he lost his grip on the reins. His body bounced (_Bounced!_ Robin thought, astounded) off the ground, his armor crunching terribly, and the momentum carried him over the edge of the ravine.

For a split second, Robin’s mind went blank with shock. For such an imposing man, he had dropped out of her sight so quietly. Surely he couldn’t be dead. Frederick wasn’t the dying type, was he?

The horse had fled. Her allies were retreating. The battlefield was swarming with Risen. Frederick was gone. She was cut off and would likely be killed. Robin could see no way out, save for a single gambit—one as likely to cost her life as save it.

What other choice did she have?

Wrapping herself in wind magic, Robin threw herself over the ravine.

The fall wasn’t as steep as she’d feared. But it was steep enough to hurt like a bitch. Even with her cloak of wind, Robin felt like a doll kicked cruelly down a flight of stairs. Rocks gouged her sides and branches tore at her face. She finally landed in a ragged heap, her left arm smacking against a boulder.

She may have blacked out for a few moments. When she lifted her head, dizzy and hurting, a violent pain shot through her arm. She retched weakly. At least her legs didn’t feel broken.

Wiping her mouth, Robin mustered the strength to stand up. Frederick lay not far from where she had fallen. He was still.

She stumbled toward him, dread and pain clipping her steps. _Don’t be dead,_ she thought. _Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead._

“Frederick?” She reached out, gingerly touching his shoulder. “Frederick, are you…?”

He was pale, and he was bleeding from the top of his head. But she could hear him drawing shallow breaths. He was alive, thank the gods.

The air cracked with thunder, and a tree on the opposite side of the ravine toppled with a sharp groan. The bellowing voices of the Risen echoed across the rocks, and Robin’s relief evaporated. The Risen were no more intelligent than beasts, which meant they might hunt them down like beasts.

They had to go.

“Frederick, she said, shaking him now. “Wake up!”

He grunted, his face clenching in pain. Slowly, his eyes opened and focused on her.

“You’re bleeding.” he said. Dazed, his voice lacked its usual hardness.

“What?” Robin touched her face, flinching when her fingers prodded an open wound on her cheek. “That doesn’t matter right now. We have to get out of here. Can you stand?”

Frederick considered her question longer than Robin would have liked.

“I can feel my legs,” he said finally. “I can stand.”

But it was an effort. Even if he could stand, it clearly pained him to do so, and he could not walk without Robin’s help. They went slowly, following the flow of a thin river and trying to keep under the cover of overhanging brush. Their luck held, and no Risen spotted them, though that likely meant they were pursuing their allies instead. The thought was of no comfort.

It was nightfall when they reached the mouth of the ravine. Robin’s legs were weak with exhaustion, and her left arm throbbed. Frederick had remained stoic, but when they stopped to rest under thick growing trees, he all but collapsed.

_He might die yet_, she realized. All at once the task of survival seemed overwhelming. Her eyes grew hot, and it was if the night itself had gotten its fangs in her throat.

“It would be no betrayal to leave me,” Frederick said. His words were lightning on sand. Instantly Robin’s despair was transmuted into fierce anger. She hated that he could say what she had not even allowed herself to think. She hated him for assuming she could do such a thing.

“I’m not leaving you,” she spat at the dying man. He looked at her, his expression a curious marriage of gratitude and disappointment.

“Don’t make promises on the battlefield,” he said.

“Shut up.”

He closed his eyes and fell silent. Not out of obedience; he simply had no strength left to argue. Robin took a breath deep enough to strain her bruised ribs. Her head felt clearer. While their situation was just as hopeless, she felt now that she could confront it. She just had to figure out how.

By now, the Risen would have repelled Chrom’s forces and would be returning to their territory. She and Frederick were not likely to survive an encounter with them, but avoiding the Risen wouldn’t be easy either, especially at night.

She remembered that the scouts had reported an abandoned village on the mountain. Once a haven for travelers, the Risen had either killed or chased out its inhabitants. Even the village’s half-destroyed homes would be safer than spending the night in the woods.

But the journey there was miserable. They had spent their energy in their first desperate flight from the Risen, and their bodies rebelled against them. Each step was a choice between agony and death. Still, they chose agony each time until the ruined outline of the village came into view.

Robin had seen her share of destruction over the past few months, but it was never easy. The village, which must have once been home to dozens of people, was now a waste of skeletal houses and charred earth.

They took shelter in a house that had not quite collapsed. Although moonlight came through the roof, it was good to have walls between them and the outside world.

Robin set Frederick against a wall just as her own strength gave out. She collapsed next to him, spent beyond her limits. She could not imagine getting up again.

And yet she did. She sat up and felt her left arm. Instant pain. Broken, but not too severely. She could at least close her left hand, though her grip was very weak. There was the deep gash on her face, as well as minor cuts along her arms and legs. Her right ankle may have been twisted. And of course, there was no point in counting her bruises.

Once she had accounted for her injuries, she turned her focus to Frederick.

“How badly are you hurt?” she asked.

“Rather badly,” he replied.

His armor had protected him from the fall somewhat, but she could tell from how he walked that something was wrong with his right leg. And Robin was concerned about the magical attack he had endured. Even now his skin was pale, and although the night was cold, he was sweating.

“Let me take your armor off,” she said suddenly.

“What?” 

“I need to see how bad it is.”

It was a clumsy process. She didn’t know how his armor was fastened, and he was in no condition to help her. But after some time, she was able to get his breastplate off. His clothes were soaked through with sweat. Carefully, she unbuttoned his shirt.

It was worse than she’d feared.

The burn, if it could be called that, spread web-like across his entire chest. His skin was discolored—the spell’s impact had burst his capillaries. Robin had been hit by similar attacks, but she’d never suffered an injury like this. It was the armor, she realized. The metal had trapped the spell’s effect, and instead of channeling out of his body, the magic had clung to him, searing even deeper into his flesh. On top of that, the spell had been necromantic, and had likely continued to drain Frederick’s life force even after the connection to the sorcerer had been severed.

If it was a broken bone, she could have tried to set it. If it was a laceration, she could have staunched the wound. But this was beyond her.

His skin was ice.

“Is it bad?” Frederick asked. Robin didn’t know what to tell him.

“You’re so cold,” she said, pressing her palm to his chest. “You’re freezing.”

“You’re warm,” he murmured.

“Why did you try to save me?” she demanded, panic making her impatient. “You knew that Risen could use magic. You should have just retreated! Why save someone you don’t even trust?”

He blinked at her, his eyes glassy with pain and fatigue.

“I don’t know,” Frederick admitted. His answer, though certainly honest, wasn’t good enough for Robin.

“You could have finally been rid of me,” Robin prodded. “You could have stopped worrying about how I was going to betray Chrom.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Frederick said, voice rising with his temper. “You’re an ally. Do you really think I could have done something like that?”

“You don’t like me.”

“That’s not true. Robin—”

“Don’t move. You’re hurt.”

“Robin, are you crying?”

She wasn’t. She had turned her face away because looking at him made her frustrated and she didn’t know why. But if he wanted to think she was crying, she’d let him. She knew it was petty. She knew it was a waste of energy neither of them had to argue like this, and in truth, Robin didn’t want to fight. Still, it seemed they did little else.

“I truly don’t dislike you,” Frederick said at last. “But you confuse me.”

“I confuse _you_?”

“You appeared out of nowhere without memories and with more military knowledge than many generals. You immediately won the hearts and trust of the royal family despite not knowing what Ylisse was. Even I—”

He paused, choosing his words with care.

“I am a knight,” he continued. “It is my duty to protect the royal family. But I admit, I like you far more than is safe.”

“Well,” Robin said, surprised by his honesty. “You had me fooled.”

“I did not intend to offend you.”

She believed him, which complicated things. It would be one thing if he hated her, but she didn’t understand what it meant for him to feel this way. She didn’t know how to feel toward him.

“Why did you call me ‘handsome?’” Frederick asked.

“Really?”

“You won’t tell me? I could be dying.”

The joke was too real to be funny.

“Then don’t die,” Robin said curtly.

She didn’t want him to die. But she couldn’t save him. For all she knew, the spell could still be leeching his life away. He might be dead by morning. If only she knew how to use healing magic! Her spells were useless to her now!

Or were they? An idea crept into her head. It was dangerous, but it might keep him alive, or at least soften the pain.

“I know you don’t trust me,” she said. “But if I thought of a way to warm you up, could you trust me with that?”

“With that, I think I could.”

Robin nodded. She removed the fire tome from her belt and lay it open on the floor. She double, then triple checked the familiar incantation. It was a simple spell, but she could not afford to fail.

“Excuse me for this,” she said as she straddled him clumsily.

“You’re testing the limits of my trust,” Frederick complained. “If this is your idea of ‘warming me up,’ it’s rather…inappropriate.”

“Bear with me.”

Robin took a deep breath and slowly began to channel the spell. But instead of releasing a blast of fire, she forced the magic to circulate through her body. At first it was like wrestling with a river. The magic seemed to fight her, and for a split second Robin feared it would burn her from the inside. Then it settled to a manageable thrum, the heat of the suppressed fire seeping down to her fingertips. With great caution, she placed her hands on Frederick’s chest.

He winced, and she pulled back.

“Did I burn you?”

“No. I was only surprised. It was…nice.”

She touched him again, and his deathly cold skin began to warm. Beneath her palm, Robin could feel the even rhythm of his heartbeat. He relaxed, and his breathing became easier. Thank the gods. Even if she couldn’t heal his wounds, she could at least treat him.

Though at a cost. It wasn’t easy sustain magic like this. The spell wasn’t made for it, and neither was she. After a few minutes, Robin’s hands were trembling, and she was breathing hard. Her broken arm ached every second the magic flowed through it. But she held on. The night was long and would only get colder. She would keep up the spell as long as she could. Just for a few more seconds, then a few seconds beyond that. Just a little longer.

When the spell finally broke, Robin nearly collapsed into Frederick. She was dizzy, and black spots played at the edges of her vision. She almost didn’t notice that Frederick had put his hand on her waist to steady her. Though weak, he looked worried. She tried to stand, but it was an impossible effort. Instead, she rolled inelegantly off him.

“Careful.”

“I’m alright,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“It’s easier to breathe. Like you melted the ice in my blood.” A pause. “Thank you, Robin.”

“You can thank me when we make it off this mountain alive.”

Robin shrugged off her coat and wrapped it around Frederick’s torso, hoping to retain some of the spell’s heat. The house was cold—the wind came right through the walls.

“Aren’t you cold?” Frederick asked.

“That’s not important,” Robin said. Still, Frederick lifted the hem of her coat.

“Come.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but realized she was far too exhausted to do so. She crawled to his side and let him drape half of the coat over her. He was warm. Thank goodness he was warm, she thought as she fell hard into sleep.

The house was gray with light when Robin woke. For a moment, the world was cozy and small. Then she remembered.

She sat up faster than her body would have liked. She had been hurting yesterday, but sleep had made her muscles stiff. She thought about the ground they’d need to cover today and grimaced. It would be hard.

“Good morning.” Frederick’s voice was weary, but calm.

“Morning,” Robin said. Her mouth felt stuffed with wool. “Did you sleep?”

“I kept watch.”

“You should have woken me. I could have taken a shift.”

“I suppose,” he said, not quite looking at her. An odd reply from a usually stern lieutenant, Robin thought. She had never known him to be lax about watch duties before. Perhaps his injuries had worsened? But he wasn’t cold—his body temperature was about normal. His color had improved, too.

“Can you stand?” she asked.

“I’ll do what I must.”

They put him in his armor again and began their slow trek down the mountain. It was, as Robin predicted, hard. After getting a taste of rest, her body was less willing to move than it had been yesterday, and her arm had begun to swell. Thankfully, Frederick needed less support today. Despite his injuries and lack of sleep, he had rallied somewhat. He held himself straighter and his steps were firmer. Still, they were only able to walk for an hour before needing to rest by the stream.

They were making poor time, Robin thought as she refilled her waterskin. Frederick wasn’t on the brink of death, but eventually he would need to sleep. They’d need to eat. They would only grow weaker with time, and if they couldn’t make it off the mountain today, Robin expected they wouldn’t survive at all.

She brought the waterskin to Frederick and let him drink deeply.

“Are you rested?” she asked. “Are you cold?”

“Walking will warm me,” he replied.

“In that case, let’s—”

A branch snapped. Robin turned, and she and the Risen saw each other at the same time. She reached for her tome, but the Risen was faster. Its handaxe clipped her shoulder, and the blast of fire ripped harmlessly through the trees.

The pain did not hit her at once. The shock numbed her, and as Robin stumbled back, she watched with floating horror as the Risen charged toward her. She knew her next attack wouldn’t be ready in time. It would hit her. It would tear her apart.

Two bodies crashed together, and the Risen gave a gurgled cry of surprise. Frederick had launched himself at the Risen with ferocious strength. They both fell to the ground, struggling desperately. The Risen did not stay stunned for long. Without the element of surprise, it took only a few seconds for it to pin Frederick. It snapped at his neck, trying to get its jaws around his armor.

This time she would not miss. The fireball launched directly into the Risen’s side, throwing it off Frederick and into the bushes. Robin immediately began to channel the spell again. She would finish it off before it had a chance to get up. The magic pooled in her hand, hotter and hotter, until finally…

The spell fizzled out, the pages of her tome bursting into flames, its magic spent. Cursing, she dropped the fire tome and felt for her wind tome. But the Risen was already standing. It turned its rotting eyes on Robin and snarled.

The javelin through its throat shut it up permanently.

The creature staggered, then crumbled into ash, leaving only the javelin behind. Her knees like mud, Robin sunk to the ground. The sound of wings drew closer.

“Robin!” Sumia called, Cordelia not far behind her.

Saved. They were saved.

Even with the help of healers, it took Robin nearly a week to recover. She had badly aggravated her broken arm, and, according to Maribelle, she was “lucky the bone hadn’t shattered to bits.”

Frederick hadn’t been better off. As Robin had suspected, the magical burn was severe—the blast could have stopped his heart. Still, he healed. The scar remained, but the cold left him. It was a remarkable recovery—he was back to his old self while Robin’s arm was still in a sling.

Well, perhaps not quite his old self.

“So why’s Frederick avoiding you?” Lissa asked as she examined Robin’s arm. “Also, make a fist.”

“He’s not avoiding me,” Robin said, even though he was.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why I’ve been passing on messages between you two for the past week.”

Robin grimaced, and not just because Lissa was bending her arm. It was getting rather ridiculous. After everything that had happened, she and Frederick had hardly spoken a word to each other. Professionally, it was becoming a problem. Personally, she was somewhat disappointed.

“It’s healing well,” Lissa pronounced. “A couple more days and you won’t need the sling.”

“Can’t you use a staff again? It’s difficult to work with just one hand.”

“On an injury like this? Robin, it’s almost healed. It’s better to be patient and avoid risking the side effects. Buuuuuut…” Lissa had that dangerous look in her eyes again. “I guess I could make an exception if you told me what happened between you and Frederick on the mountain?”

“What did he tell you,” Robin demanded.

“He didn’t tell me anything, honest! I only asked and he got all flustered. He even started blushing! So don’t even try to tell me nothing happened, because something _definitely _did.”

“In that case, I’ll take my sling back.”

“Robin!”

“Really, Lissa, you have such an active imagination,” Robin said. “We camped out in an abandoned village and walked a lot. That’s it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Yup, that’s me. Bye, Lissa.”

Frederick was waiting outside the medical tent. For her, Robin thought immediately. Yet he looked startled to see her.

“Robin,” he said. “A word?”

“Just one?”

“A few.”

Despite that, he struggled to say anything. He stood wrestling with his words, and it was almost endearing. But it was mostly awkward.

“We made it off the mountain,” he said finally. “We survived.”

“We did, yes.”

“Thank you, Robin. I mean it most sincerely.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” she said. Again, there was that odd disappointment. She hadn’t been expecting much, but had it really taken him a week of avoiding her just to say “thank you”? “Well, if that’s all…”

“It’s not,” he said quickly. “I mean…what I meant to say was…you’re quite handsome as well.”

“I’m sorry?!”

“You’re handsome!” Frederick nearly shouted. Then his face turned an alarming shade of red. “Excuse me,” he said. Then he turned and walked away at an admittedly impressive pace. He was practically jogging.

It took Robin a full moment to wrap her head around what had happened.

“Handsome?” she said aloud to no one. But he had called her handsome! Why on earth would he—

Oh.

Oh _no._

Now Robin felt her own face heating up. She had wanted him to like her. She just hadn’t expected to succeed so thoroughly.

“‘Handsome,’” she said again, quietly this time. She raised her good hand to her lips and found a shy grin there.

It bothered her immensely.

But perhaps she rather liked it, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile, Lissa's just sitting in the med tent hearing everything and living for it.


End file.
